


Vanguard: the New Age of Heroes

by Konggodzuko



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, bit of a mashup of ATLA Korra with ideas drawn from DC and marvel, some other franchises may appear too but I'm playing those close to my chest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konggodzuko/pseuds/Konggodzuko
Summary: The Golden Age of Heroes started fifty years ago, when the first Firelord and an international team of superhumans stopped the Earth Empire from taking over the world. Now, those heroes have gone, and a new age, the Silver Age, has begun. The heroes of this new age are scattered throughout the world; they do good work on their own, but many growing threats on the horizon means that they will have to come together in order to save the world.[a series of interconnected one-shots, set in a world of superheroes and supervillains, eventual Zutara][originally posted on ff.net, now being rewritten and posted here. The ff.net version will eventually be updated with the rewritten chapters once I've gone through them all]





	1. Firelord: Convoy

Convoy

**Airspace over the Si Wong desert, 22:04 Local Time**

The _Flare_ cut through the night sky with unusual quiet for an aircraft. An experimental prototype, it had been built a little over five years ago by Ogata Industries as a proof-of-concept for the National military. It had been rejected as-is for being too expensive, and a more scaled-back, cheaper model — the Ogata 1200 — was designed. The _Flare_ was put into storage at a private airfield owned by Ogata Industries. It collected dust for two years until it was pulled from storage, given a new coat of paint and became the personal aircraft of the second Firelord, aka, Zuko Ogata.

Zuko sat with his legs folded on the bench that ran the length of the aircraft’s passenger cabin, his eyes closed, his breathing steady, as he meditated in preparation for his upcoming mission. As he breathed in and out, he could feel his chi moving as well, warming and cooling, shifting both deep within his stomach and just under the surface of his skin.

As he was about to go into battle as the Firelord, Zuko was dressed appropriately; an armored red-and-black body suit with a bright gold flame at the center of his chest, a pair of dark gray boots, a black domino mask to protect his identity, and a simple hair tie to keep his shoulder-length hair up in a top-knot. His hands were bare, as gloves would interfere with fire blasts, and his boots were grated and made from a highly heat resistant material, so he could shoot fire from his feet without having to forego boots. Truthfully, the armor was mostly cosmetic, all things considered; his body was naturally durable due to his heritage, and his chi could bolster his toughness even higher. Instead of protecting his body, the armor was to protect his modesty, as his abilities meant he would burn through most materials, and the constant gunfire he faces meant that if his clothes weren't being burned off, they'd be shot off.

The pitch of the aircraft’s engines changed, just as a voice rang out, “We’re above the convoy now.” Zuko’s eyes slip open just in time to see Teo Sato — alias the Mechanist, Zuko's tech support, as well as his best and only friend — step out from the cockpit and into the cabin. Zuko could see the slight going of Teo’s prostheses as he walked and the cuffs of his jeans shifted.

Teo ran one hand through his scruffy brown hair as the other adjusted his shirt, “You ready?”

Zuko nodded, and stood up, “What are we looking at?”

Teo took a small remote from his pocket and clicked a button, causing a section of floor in the middle of the cabin to rise to about waist-height. A flickering, light blue hologram appeared over its surface, forming into the smooth, largely featureless terrain three thousand feet below; several small dots were moving along a long, completely straight line. Teo made a gesture with his hands, and the landscape grew more defined as the line and dots grew and resolved into a poorly paved road and four vehicles.

Zuko leaned onto the table, closely watching the small convoy. An armored bus sat in the middle, with two armored cars following it, and a third leading the way.

Teo gazed at the cars for a second, before rattling off, “They’re all Imperial models from the Gan-Lan corporation. The cars are Badger 20s, top of the line models. Their armor is a steel-ceramic composite, and each one is mounted with a heavy machine gun. The bus is a 395 police bus, usually used to transport prisoners after mass-arrests.”

Zuko smirked, “Glad to see the old Sato training is still in there. Never know when I need make and models rattled off.”

Teo gave Zuko an unimpressed look, before asking, “Who do you think they’re transporting?”

“You know that I don’t know. All the Defense Ministry knows is that they’re a high-ranking Black Flame operative who is also a Fire Nation fugitive,” Zuko stood up straight, and began walking towards the front of the cabin.

Teo threw up his arms, “I know _that_ , I was just asking if you had any ideas.”

“You know I don’t do guessing games, Teo,” Zuko said, pulling a handle and opened a small chamber near the cockpit door that he stepped into.

“Twenty mon says it’s a serial killer that managed to escape the police. Like, maybe the Miyako Mauler!”

Zuko began to close the door, before stopping and saying, “Thirty that they’re ex-military, wanted for war crimes. Black Flame likes people like that,” he then pulled the door shut, and pressed a button in the chamber. The floor dropped out from under him, and he fell.

For the first few thousand feet, he was diving head-first towards the ground, only doing minor course correction by angling his body slightly to keep on-course. The fall took him out in front of the convoy, and at about two hundred feet from the ground, he channeled chi into his hands and feet, blasting fire from them and taking control of his dive, slowing down and landing gracefully on his feet, like an expert gymnast.

Firelord raised a palm, shimmering with heat, and shot the leading armored car with an intense beam of bright golden heat energy. The car lurched forwards and flipped over, landing on its roof; behind it, the bus swerved off the road to avoid crashing into the car, its momentum too much to brake quickly, and ground to a stop in the sand off to the side of the road.

The two cars that had been following it drove around, Black Flame agents popping out from the roofs to man the machine guns. Firelord charged up his chi and channeled it into his skin and muscle, increasing his durability as a storm of bullets began to hit him. The bullets shattered as they struck his skin. Firelord grimaced and raised his arm, shielding his face, while they weren’t doing any real damage, the bullets still stung badly.

The cars drew closer, to provide the gunners with better accuracy, Firelord guessed, but that was their mistake.

Keeping his arm over his face, he moved chi to his legs and leapt forwards, landing on the hood of the closer car. He raised a hand and blasted the gunner off, before using his other hand to punch through the glass, knocking out the driver in the process, and yanking the steering wheel sideways, sending it tumbling as he jumped off and over sticking the landing once more.

The third car bore down on him. The Firelord charged his body with chi again, and as the car was about to hit him, swung a fist, stopping the car dead with his hand lodged in the engine block. His loosed a blast of fiery energy, causing the engine to ignite and explode quite dramatically.

He winced and tensed, absorbing as much of the heat energy as he could off of the explosion.

Firelord rolled his neck as the smoke cleared, partially energized, yet still drained from the explosion. He could sap away heat energy from explosions quite fine, but the kinetic energy still took a toll of the chi that kept his body strong.

He heard movement and turned around, eyes scanning the area, but it wasn’t hard to determine the source. Seven Black Flame agents were piling out of the bus, and joining them were the three survivors from the first two cars that he had dealt with. All were dressed in the pitch black body armor of their organization, and most were holding semi-automatic rifles. He spared a glance at the burned wreckage he stood next to, and determined that they were likely not to be joining this fight either.

Firelord sighed and looked at the advancing agents, “Look, I have to admit that I’d really not care about putting you guys in the ground as well, but I have to ask; do you _really_ think like this will turn out well for you if you stay? Because you could run away, I don’t want you, I just want whatever weapon—”

One of the agents, holding a grenade launcher, hefted his weapon and aimed it at the Firelord.

He looked at the weapon, “Really? I would’ve thought that Black Flame would stop trying to blow me up, considering I can—” A grenade smacked his chest and exploded into white mist, and instantly, he knew something was wrong.

He felt a great rush of cold in his upper body, and suddenly a wave of weakness as his chi seemed to be sapped away. He down, to see that his whole torso had been encased in a thin sheen of ice.

“Open fire!” A shout said, and gunfire erupted.

Firelord staggered back. No bullet had managed to actually penetrate his flesh, but that was probably due to his suit’s durability, but he would definitely feel the bullets later as bruises.

He turned his back to them and hurdled over the smoking remains of the car and sat against it. He focused in on his body, and felt most of his chi in his torso, keeping his flesh warm and unfrozen. He moved his chi more aggressively, and the ice melted off in less than a second. With a roll of his shoulders he deemed himself in good condition, just in time for a Black Flame agent to run around the car and take aim at his head.

With a snarl, he blasted a hole through the agent, and got to his feet as the body collapsed. He grabbed onto the car wreck, lifted it, and then tossed it right at the group of agents. Two were taken off their feet by the wreck, while the remaining seven got out of the way.

Firelord zeroed in on the one who had the grenade launcher, and loped forwards. The agent began to raise his weapon, but it was snatched from his grasp and thrown away. The agent himself was grasped by the collar, and flung upwards.

Gunfire broke out and Firelord winced and bolstered his durability as he turned around. The six agents that were still standing had grouped up and were firing at him. He crouched slightly, before lunging forwards, crashing into the group. He grabbed one by their chest armor and swung around, sending them all sprawling to the ground; the one he had grabbed was slammed downwards, going limp.

One began to get up but Firelord kicked their side, sending them a good distance away. 

There was a loud thump and a short shout, and he whirled around, only to see that another of the agents had been flatted by the one he had thrown into the air a few seconds ago. He couldn’t help but grin and mutter, “Lucky.”

Another had gotten fully to their feet, but Firelord swung a fist and dropped them, before turning to the last two, who were getting up, and raised both of his hands, downing them both with heat blasts.

Quiet fell rapidly as Firelord assessed the area, making sure all Black Flame agents were down, before nodding and walking to the bus. 

He reached out and opened the door, but didn’t get a second to see inside before a fist nearly the size of a cinderblock crashed into his face and sent him tumbling across the dusty desert landscape.

Firelord staggered to his feet to see an over seven-foot tall, musclebound figure dressed in simple black clothes squeeze its way out of the bus. “Well, well, well, Firelord. We meet again.”

It took a second, but the hulking man’s large sideburns and cocky smirk summoned a face from a few years ago. He grimaced, before saying “I should’ve known Black Flame recruited you,” he straightened up, rolling his shoulders, “You’re just their type.”

Zhao smiled, “I am indeed; ambitious and strong-willed, the two defining traits of Black Flame.”

“Strange, I thought it was being power-hungry and cruel,” he looked at Zhao, “What did they do to you?”

Zhao grinned and flexed an arm, “Impressive, isn’t it? The eggheads back at Black Flame cooked up a serum for me, said it was based off a sample of you, but tweaked a bit. I didn’t get the whole fire powers, though. It’s a shame, I would’ve loved to burn your face off after beating you unconscious. Guess I’ll just settle for crushing in your skull,” with this charming statement, he sprinted forwards at superhuman speed.

Firelord raised his hands and unleashed a sustained blast of fiery energy. The blast connected with Zhao, but instead of being knocked off of his feet, he was just stopped in his tracks, bracing himself against the stream of power. Then, alarmingly, he began to walk forwards, against the blast. Firelord cut off the blasts, instead sending chi into his feet and flying forwards.

He stopped flying just as he got near Zhao, slamming a foot into the ground and using his momentum to spin around and kick Zhao in the face. It staggered the larger man, and Firelord pressed his advantage by closing in and rapidly punching him in the gut. Up close, Firelord could feel the height difference far more, coming up to Zhao’s pectorals.

However, Zhao powered through, and caught both of Firelord’s fists, pulled them towards him, and head-butted the smaller man with a loud _crack_. Zhao then threw him to the ground, slammed a knee onto Firelord’s chest, and began punching his face with all of his strength.

Black spots began to dance in Firelord’s eyes and blood began to leak profusely from his nose before he charged up enough chi and let loose a huge explosion from his entire body. It sent Zhao flying upwards, and gave him a moment to think.

_‘Based off a sample of you’_. That’s what Zhao had said. Firelord believed it, he had felt — like a distant echo — Zhao’s chi moving within him, powering up his attacks and defense. It wasn’t like his own chi, which he moved with deft control, instead it seemed to be something Zhao was taking for granted, spirits, Zhao may not even know about his chi at all. He just couldn't use it to make fire. He needed to neutralize Zhao’s chi if he wanted to take him out, because otherwise, he’d need to fly Zhao into the stratosphere and drop him in order to generate enough force to overcome his chi-enhanced durability. But how—

The idea struck Firelord at the same moment that Zhao struck the earth a few yards away, and began to shift and get up almost immediately.

Firelord turned and sprinted towards the cluster of vehicle wrecks on the road.

He heard Zhao yell and begin to pound after him.

His eyes flicked around rapidly, trying to find — _there_. He dove at his prize, picked it up, and turned around.

Zhao was about twenty feet away. He grinned as he saw the weapon, and continued to run towards him, “You really think a grenade can—”

The Firelord pulled the trigger.

The grenade exploded against Zhao’s left shoulder, ice encasing his upper arm and left side of his chest and neck instantly. He staggered, and Firelord pulled the trigger again, this grenade exploding at Zhao’s feet.

The massive man fell to his hands and knees, and Firelord threw aside the grenade launcher and casually strode over. “You know, when going into battle with a team, its useful to remember what they’re equipped,” He stopped right in front of Zhao, “Otherwise you end up making stupid mistakes,” he raised a fist, poured a massive amount of chi into it, then punched Zhao across the face, downing him.

He stared at Zhao for a few seconds, before he reached into his belt and pulled out an earpiece, putting it in and turning it on at the same time, “Mechanist?” He asked, using Teo’s codename.

There was a beat before his friend responded, _“That was a wild fight, dude, who was that big guy?”_

“Ma Zhao, a former lieutenant of the National navy. A few years ago — a few months before I recruited you — the ship he had been stationed on was patrolling Yu Dao waters, and an Imperial pleasure cruise accidentally strayed in. He incited a mutiny, took over the ship, sunk the cruise, then went into Imperial waters to ‘retaliate’ for the ‘invasion’. The Fire Nation asked me to stop Zhao and bring him back for a court-martialing before he caused the Second Great War. I managed to stop him before he did, obviously, but after he was court-martialed, he just vanished. Only to turn up here, mutated and working for Black Flame.”

_“Wow, that’s wild.”_

Zuko hummed, before saying “Yes, so I guess you owe me thirty mon.”

_“Wha- aww, man, he_ is _the agent you were sent to get, isn’t he?”_

“I highly doubt that this convoy has another high-profile Fire Nation fugitive,” Zuko said dryly, “Now bring the _Flare_ in to land, we need to secure him for transport.”

* * *

 

**International Superhuman Penitentiary, aka “the Boiling Rock”, 23:12 Local Time**

Warden Takeshi Treung tapped his foot as he watched the skies, “The Firelord is twelve minutes overdue.”

“I’m sure everything is fine,” said Chit Sang, head of security.

Treung pursed his lips, “That’s even worse, Sang. I despise tardiness, especially when there is no good reason for it.”

Chit Sang opted to chew his lip rather than say anything else. The warden seemed to be intent on feeling irritated. Granted, ‘irritation' was Treung’s default emotion.

No more than a minute later, a dark shape emerged from the night sky, approaching with speed. It was a sleek, black-and-red aircraft unlike any Chit Sang had seen before. It held a strong resemblance to the Ogata 1200s, but larger and lacked the impressive armaments of the 1200s. It descended almost vertically, turning around as it did, and landed on the vast metal platform with grace that belied the aircraft’s size.

Warden Treung began to walk to the aircraft, and Chit Sang motioned with a hand as he strode forwards as well, and the small guard team he had brought began to follow him.

The back of the aircraft lowered, turning into a ramp, and a tall figure strode down the ramp.

The Firelord.

The superhero met Treung and Chit Sang at the base of the ramp and the three men bowed curtly.

“You could stand to learn punctuality, Firelord,” Treung wasted no time in leveling his complaint at the taller, masked man.

The Firelord let out a short sigh, “Always a pleasure too, warden,” he looked at Chit Sang, “Zhao’s at the top of the ramp. You prepared a grade three cell, right?”

Chit Sang motioned for his men to collect the new prisoner, “Yes, we did. With the low-temperature defenses, like you asked,” he answered as his men moved around them and up the ramp, one was wheeling a gurney.

Firelord nodded, “Good.”

At the top of the ramp, the guards had secured a figure to the gurney and had begun to wheel it down. Chit Sang had to marvel at the unnatural size of the man strapped to it.

“How are the prisoners? Any trouble?”

Treung raised an eyebrow, “Sentimental? I could get one out if you wish to beat their heads in.”

The Firelord’s eyebrows knitted together, “I was trying to be polite, Treung.”

“Then get here when you say you will.”

The Firelord pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked past the warden and Chit Sang, “Well, the prisoner is in your hands now. Good day, warden, Sang,” he bowed to each of them in turn before striding back up the ramp and into his ship. The ramp raised behind him, and the engines roared to life as it closed and the aircraft’s wheels began to leave the platform. Within five minutes, it had vanished into the night sky.

* * *

**Undisclosed Location**

“Ma'am!” A Black Flame agent clicked his heels and bowed.

Eyes narrowed, “Well?”

“Lieutenant Zhao was captured by the Firelord sir. And, the entire unit was lost, Kawaji survived just long enough to radio in a report before he died. We have a clean-up crew on the way to retrieve the bodies.”

A hand waved lazily, “Dismissed.”

The agent left hastily.

A wide, wicked smile appeared on a pale face, “Always the fool, Zuzu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! So, so, so! Here I am, starting this saga over once more.  
> I have my reasons for overhauling this fic, mostly because I was displeased with a lot of the decisions I had made in the past. So, this.  
> This is a full rewrite of the first chapter, but its more of a rework, just changing up details and specifics to make something I think is better.  
> Zuko is not the Blue Spirit here. He once was (that will be talked about later!) but he isn't anymore. In ATLA, the Blue Spirit was an identity that Zuko used to do a lot of sketchy shit. Sure, he saved Aang, but he also stole a lot and did other disreputable actions as the Blue Spirit. It's not a strong heroic identity.  
> I'll talk about Iroh, Zuko and the identity of the Firelord, as well as their familial situation at a future date. But as you can see, Azula's up to her usual maniacal machinations.  
> Teo features heavily in this story, because I always kinda like him and thought it was a shame he didn't get to do all that much in the backhalf of ATLA season 3. He's Zuko's tech guy and pilot, the second trait is a new addition from the old story, before I realized that Teo - y'know, the guy in canon who was amazing on a glider - should probably be Zuko's pilot.  
> I think that's it...  
> Anyway, Questions, comments, concerns? Drop them below! See you.


	2. The Painted Lady: Rebirth

**One Month Ago**

“You’re fired,” Maliq Thod said.

Katara felt her breath catch, emotion welling up inside her, “What?”

He leaned forwards, elbows resting on his desk, “You’re. Fired.”

She let the breath out, “I _know_. What I meant was ‘for what reason?’”

“Malpractice. You used unsanctioned methods to treat a patient.”

“You mean the Sura girl?” Katara began pinching one of her ears, “I saved her life!”

“With old Tribal whoo-doo from two hundred years ago! You might as well have done blood-letting and thrown on some leeches too.”

Katara straightened, “It’s not some… _nonsense_ Maliq, Tribal herbalism kept our people alive and healthy for three thousand years! My grandmother treated a fever I had as a child with the same mix I used to treat Sura.”

“But it’s not board-approved, regardless of how well it worked, it’s an ethics violation.”

Her temper swelled but she tried to keep a lid on it, “I _saved_ a _life_ , Maliq, isn’t that what being a doctor is? We’re supposed to save lives! It’s in the freaking _oath_ we take, that if he have the ability to save a life with the methods we have, then we do so!”

Maliq remained unimpressed, giving her an even, slightly bored look, “Sorry, but the board’s decision is final.”

Katara tapped her foot, “You’ve always said I was the best doctor you had, did you even put up a fight to keep me?”

Maliq took off his glasses and cleaned them with a sleeve, “I let the board make its decision, it’t not my place to step in.”

_‘Well, if I’m being fired anyway,’_ Katara mused as her fist clenched, _‘might as well clear the air and go out with a bang,’_. She folded her arms, “Is this because my father just had your sister arrested for industrial espionage?”

Maliq suddenly looked uncomfortable, “You have two hours to clear out your things. We’ll handle reassigning your patients. Due to the fact that what you did is against hospital rules and did not actually break Southern Tribal law, you won’t be subject to any criminal charges. Have a nice day, Yupik.”

_‘Bingo,’_ she thought, before sighing, “Fine. Good-bye, Maliq, I hope your sister goes away for a long, long time.”

* * *

Katara stalked through the streets of South City with a box of her things in her hands and rage boiling in her heart. She had only just gotten out of residency, had only become a fully-fledged doctor a little over six months ago and now she had lost her job.

“Malpractice,” she muttered indignantly, “I did what no one else could and it’s malpractice.”

She shook her head, _‘No, no, this is all Maliq’s fault. If anything, he probably pushed the board to fire me because Dad arrested his sister.’_ Maliq’s sister, Malina Thod, was the CEO of ThodTech, one of the many upstart companies that tried to stand up to Varrick Industries, the South’s most famous corporation. ThodTech had been doing quite well against Varrick, and seemed to be turning into a legitimate competitor, when just a few weeks ago, it was discovered that ThodTech had been conducting espionage against the corporate giant. Katara’s father, South City’s Chief of Police Hakoda Yupik (and therefore one of the highest-ranking law-enforcement officials in the Southern Water Tribe), had arrested Malina not long after.

Katara had never been able to get a bead on Maliq, even before his sister was arrested. He had seemed genial enough, but every once in a while he just seemed… off. She supposed this “off-ness” was what let him screw her out of her job with little remorse, in revenge for something she never even did.

Her path to her apartment took her over one of the few remaining canals of South City. Once, nearly a thousand years ago, canals had criss-crossed the entire area of what would someday be known as South City. However, as time wore on and technology advanced and population grew, the canals were gradually filled in or sealed over, until a huge transportation system had become a few thin lines littered throughout the city.

As the bridge over the canal came into sight, Katara nearly jumped out of her skin as she saw a head-on collision take place right on the bridge, and then a two-car wreck rapidly turn into a six-car one as four more cars collided with the already crashed ones.

Katara stared at the accident, hesitated for less than a minute, before sprinting forwards, dropping her box along the way. She ran along the sidewalk and up across the bridge to where the cars had spread out over the road, and began assessing the situation.

The wreck was _bad_. Really, _really_ bad. Smoke was pouring out from more than one car hood, and not a single one seemed to be operational. One car had been flipped onto its side, another had busted through the stone rail of the bridge and was nearly halfway off, hanging over the water below. On either side of the wreck, people were getting out of their cars, most just exclaiming, some filming with their phones, others remained in their cars, doing nothing.

She whipped out her phone and punched in 1-1-9, the dispatcher picked up within a ring, _“One one nine, how may I help you?”_

Katara tamped down on her nerves and spoke calmly, “There’s been a crash on Kuruk Bridge, a, uh, six-car pileup, I don’t know how many injured.”

“Emergency services are on the way, who may I ask, is calling?”

“Katara Yupik, and—” she was cut off by a loud groaning noise as the car that was partially off the bridge suddenly shifted forwards an imperceptible amount. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she completely forgot about her phone call as she rushed forwards.

She peered through the windows as best she could, and inside she saw a man shifting around in the front seat, clearly conscious, and very distressed.

Katara tried to figure out a plan, and her eyes rested on the rear of the car, and almost smiled as she saw that it was a hatchback. She stepped up to it and opened the trunk as gently as she could.

The car stayed still.

The thought that she should wait for emergency services to get there crossed her mind, but she dismissed them. This car was going to fall into the canal below, and considering the water was never more than a few feet deep, the car would hit the bottom of the canal instead of the water, and be totaled, trapping and drowning whoever was inside.

“Sir, can you hear me?” She called out.

He stopped moving around, then hesitantly answered, “Y-yeah.”

“What’s your name?”

“S-Sangok.”

“Okay, Sangok, can you move?”

“uh-no, well, sort-of, my… my seat belt is, is stuck, I can’t… I can’t get _out_ ,” He began to shift around again, frantically.

“Sangok!” She said, “Sangok, you _need_ to keep calm if we’re going to get you out. Take deep, even breaths…” he began to, “that’s right, keep breathing, now,” she weighed her options looked at the perilous car, and sighed. She fished into her pocket book, and removed a small pocket knife, “Okay, Sangok? I need you to stay as still as you can. I’m going to climb in there, lean over, and cut off the seatbelt, okay?” She leaned into the trunk and began fiddling with the rear seats, managing to get them to fold down, for the most part.

“But… but the car!”

“It’s either I do nothing and the car falls in, and you with it, or do something and possibly save you.” She climbed into the back of the car, and inched her way forwards.

The car groaned.

She held her breath.

The car didn’t tilt.

She shuffled forwards the last foot, kneeling directly behind the passenger seat, and began using her knife to saw through the belt.

“It’ll be okay Sangok, it’s all going to be okay,” she said lowly, soothingly. The man, who could not have been more than a year or two older than her, nodded shakily.

The belt came apart, most of it snapped away as the mechanism retracted it. Sangok breathed in deeply.

“Okay, now,” Katara said, looping an arm through his, “Let’s get you out.”

Sangok wiggled and leveraged himself out of the driver’s seat, Katara pulled him up, pulling him alongside her into the back.

“Okay, now—” Katara began, but was cut off by the feeling of the car _shifting_.

Her eyes widened, she hauled Sangok in front of her, and as he shuffled on his hands and knees, she shoved him as hard as she could towards the back of the car as it began to pitch forwards. She began to crawl after him.

Sangok made it.

Katara did not.

She tumbled inside the car as it flipped, loosing all sense of place, before everything stopped with a resounding crash, and she felt plastic and metal crush her, felt her body receive irreversible, fatal damage.

She was alive for long enough to feel the water fill the car and surround her, filling whatever was left of her lungs.

Then Katara Yupik died.

* * *

Katara’s eyes opened.

For a moment, she could not realize why this was surprising to her, then she remembered her body being pulverized in the car wreck.

Then she realized, she had no idea where she was.

She was laying on a soft warm bed, but she wasn’t in a hospital, or even at home.

The bed she was laying on was in what could only be described as half-a-house. It was a mossy, overgrown structure built of wood and very much exposed to the elements. There wasn’t much else in the half-house, a small, simple fountain burbled where a wall once would’ve run through, and some strings of crystals hung from the part-of-a-roof and pieces-of-walls.

She looked down at herself and realized she was not wearing the simple jeans and sweater she had been when walking home. Instead, she was wearing a soft, white robe, almost like a bathrobe, but made of something like silk. Her hair was still in a braid, neat as a pin despite the chaos she remembered just going through.

She slid out of the bed and got to her feet, walking to the edge of half-a-house, and looked out at the landscape, and felt her jaw drop.

She was looking over a huge, wide plain of odd, orange grass, and craggy, twisting, red-and-white trees dotted the landscape. In the bright purple sky, there was no sun, despite there being light, and clouds shifted rapidly, changing from storm clouds to wispy trails within seconds.

And throughout this strange setting, _creatures_ moved about. Creatures that looked like feathery manta rays glided through the air, making soft chirping coos. A wolf, easily twice the size of an arctic mammoth prowled the distance, and closer to her, something that looked like a cross between an ant and a lion was fending off a creature with a lot of tentacles and no defined shape. 

“What the…” she breathed, “Am I in—”

_“—the Spirit World? Yes,”_ an ethereal voice finished for her.

Katara turned, and her eyes grew.

Standing in the doorway of the half-a-house was a woman; easily seven feet tall, and paper white, save for red striped markings on her face and shoulder, and her pitch-black hair, which swirled around like a dark cloud. She was dressed in a simple white dress, and a large, wide-brimmed veiled hat that resembled a large jellyfish more than anything.

Katara blinked owlishly, “I- who _are_ you?”

The spirit — for what else could she be? — smiled gently, _“I, Katara, am Yanse, the Painted Lady of Rivers, daughter of Tui and La, spirit of waterways and healing.”_

“I-I’ve read about you,” Katara said, shock rippling through her body, “when I was little, I used to have a picture book about the Legend of Jang Hui. You were, well, a little more cartoony in the book.”

Yanse laughed, the noise was distinctly inhuman, more akin to bells than anything else, _“Ah, I remember Jang Hui. Good people, good food, and a beautiful river.”_

Silence fell between the pair and Katara looked around, awkwardly. She glanced outside to see the dark mass of tendrils had defeated the lion-ant, and was… she assumed eating it, but as the thing didn’t have a mouth it just looked like it was laying on its slain foe. “Why am I here?”

_“You died, Katara. The car crushed you in the fall.”_

Katara blinked, then looked at Yanse, “I- I’m dead? Then why am I here? I thought humans just reincarnated or something.”

_“Normally, yes. You see, us spirits are not only responsible for our spheres of influence, but also for those who die in or because of them. My father, La, is responsible for those who drown in his oceans, and Agni is for those who die in fires. I am responsible for those who die in rivers. In most circumstances, I am to escort the dead to another part of the Spirit World, for rest, before they move on.”_

“I take it that means there’s something different with me?” Katara ventured, fiddling with her braid.

_“I wish to make you an offer, Katara. I can restore you to life.”_

Katara nearly fell over, “What? Wait — better question, why?”

_“The answer is twofold. For one, you died saving someone else’s life. You put yourself in danger, and rescued someone who would have died otherwise. It was a very noble act. This forms the basis of the second reason; that this is an opportunity for myself.”_

“Uh, what do you mean?”

Yanse sighed and stared out at the horizon, _“For thousands of years, us spirits were far more active in the human world. I myself was quite prolific, as you know. As a healing spirit, and one closely tied with humanity, I have a far more human morality than the more nature-oriented spirits, such as the Great Ones. So I fought for the sake of humanity, protecting them from threats spiritual and human, saving lives, healing the sick… it was very fulfilling.”_

“Why’d you stop?” Katara asked. It had been a scholarly question for years and years as to what had happened to the spirits, why they decided to leave the mortal world.

_“Humans grew too strong. Three centuries ago, a human attempted to kill Tui. They were punished accordingly, condemned to the Fog of Lost Souls. However, the incident scared the Great Ones. Agni and Tui wished to stay in the mortal world, but La was worried for his mate, and convinced Patola and Kolau of his concerns. Outnumbered, Agni and Tui relented, and the Great Ones decreed that spirits would retreat from the mortal world, and carry out their basic duties from the Spirit World.”_

“That’s why everything went… ‘normal’, right? Without you around, magic in the world began to disappear and so did superhumans and monsters, right?”

_“Precisely. But, then, in the last few decades something…_ changed _. I don’t know what happened, but there was a paradigm shift. Superhumans walk amongst humans once again, and I won’t be surprised if monsters begin to appear soon as well. It is because of this that I make my offer, my_ true _offer; I shall bond with your body, and bring you back from the dead. Together, we can help protect your world from whatever evil may come. Together, we can be, as you humans call it, a superhero.”_

A Katara from just a few hours ago would have had a harder time deciding. A job as a doctor was time-consuming, and was like being a superhero in its own way.

However, Katara was now unemployed, and she had always had a thing about helping people.

* * *

In the water of the canal, the broken body of Katara Yupik _glowed_.

* * *

**South City, Southern Water Tribe, Present Day, 16:38 Local Time**

Police chief Hakoda Yupik tried to keep himself from crushing his coffee cup while observing the situation he was facing.

Two hours ago, a bunch of thugs decided to hold up the Southern Municipal Bank, only for it to turn into a stand-off because the idiots didn’t realize a cop car had been parked across the street.

Now, eight, heavily armed, nervous men were keeping eight civilians hostage in the bank’s lobby, and it was up to Hakoda to arrest those men and rescue the civilians.

It was a shit day to have only had four hours of sleep.

“Sir!” Hakoda’s head swung around and his eyes rested on a beat cop, the name “Ujarak” came to mind. Standing next to him was a short, tubby man, dressed in an ill-fitting suit. His lighter skin and ruddy eyes marked him as a Fire-Water mix.

“Yes?”

“This is the hostage negotiator-” he paused, looking at the man, who’s visible irritation made it clear that he had only just introduced himself to Ujarak.

“Tsuburaya, Chief Hakoda.” He finished, sticking his hand out to Hakoda.

The police chief took the hand happily, giving it a solid shake, “Pleased to meet you, unfortunate that these are the circumstances.”

“Same. So, down to business, we have a line inside, right?”

“Yes, the bank has a landline in the lobby. Why, I don’t know, but it’s there and functional.”

“Good, good. Alright, just point me to where you’ve set up the- huh.”

“What?”

“That fog wasn’t there two seconds ago…” The negotiator said, pointing behind Hakoda.

The chief turned, and his eyebrows rose considerably.

Rolling down the street at an alarming pace was a thick fog bank, at last ten feet tall, and thick as sea prune stew. It took a moment, before something clicked din Hakoda’s head, “No, no, she’s a myth…”

“What? Who’s a myth?”

“Uh… nothing… it has to just be odd… fog…” he trailed off as the fog suddenly flattened, picked up the pace and swerved, right towards the bank.

* * *

Noa was wondering where he could find something to eat in a bank when something caught his eye outside, “Hey, uh, guys, you need to see this.”

His partners — three of whom where stuffing money in duffle bags, two guarding the hostages, and the other two sitting on the floor and shooting the breeze — all turned their attention to Sangok. He pointed a shaky finger outside. 

Thick fog was quickly obscuring everything outside the bank doors, greying out the light and giving the impression it was now near sundown despite being high noon.

“Shit, guys. Is-is this her?”

“Nah man,” One said shakily, “It’s, uh, its gotta just be some weird fog.”

“Ain’t like any fog I ever saw.” Someone else responded.

“Nah, man, they have fog like this at Foggy Swamp.”

“They live in a fucking swamp, of course they have-”

“Uh, guys,” Noa said, noticing something near the ceiling and doors, “It’s… it’s coming in.”

Sure enough, thick fog was pouring through the cracks in the doors and the vents above their heads. Within minutes, Noa could barely see the floor, let alone other people.

“Guys, guys, we gotta keep talking and get close together, we don’t want someone sneaking up on us.”

“Noa, you’re so fucking para- AUGH!”

“Tho? EI- ARG!”

One by one, Noa heard his friends get attacked. They would just scream and be silenced, whether in the middle of a sentence or not.

Soon, it was quiet, and Noa got the feeling he was very much alone.

Then it seemed like the mist thickened and _took form_ , folding and compressing in front of him, into a distinctly human shape. One that was distinctly that of a woman.

He raised his shotgun up, and when she took a step forwards, unloaded the two shots he had in it.

She didn’t even stagger, she jus briefly turned to vapor before condensing again, never stopping her advance.

Panicking, he tried to fish out more shells, but before he could, a deep purple hand gripped his gun and tore it out of his hands, throwing it across the room. The hand then gripped his throat and raised him off the ground as he finally got a good look at the attacker.

She was beautiful, yet unsettlingly alien. He could see the shape of a Tribeswoman, but instead of a deep brown, her skin was purple, like the night plums from the Fire Nation, and marked with bright red streaks like a tigerdillo’s stripes. Her hair was amorphous, lacking individual strands, like a vaguely hair-shaped could attached to her head. Her eyes were the most unnerving; glowing, luminescent turquoise, giving her an otherworldly presence.

“Wh-what are you?”

She grinned, revealing triangular, shark-like teeth, “I’m the Painted Lady.”

With that, she swung him, slamming him into the ground, and everything went black.

* * *

When the two shots had stopped echoing and the fog dissipated, Hakoda immediately lead his team into the bank.

The hostages, all alive and unharmed, were slowly getting to their feet.

As for the bank robbers…

All were in varying states of unconsciousness and restraint. About three were just laying on the floor, four were — of all things — _frozen_ together in a block of ice that stopped at their heads. And one was frozen to a wall, eight feet off the ground.

Hakoda could only scratch his head in bewilderment at the sight.

Ujarak sidled up to him, “I guess she isn’t a myth after all, huh boss?”

The chief snorted, “Yeah. Guess not.”

“Y’know, at least she’s putting those abilities to good use.”

Hakoda turned and pinned Ujarak with a withering glare, “Dangerous talk, Ujarak. Vigilantism is still a crime, not something to condone.”

The cop shrunk under the chief’s stare, and nodded.

Hakoda turned back to observe the scene some more. Now, cops were trying to chip the ice off of the frozen robbers so they could be properly arrested.

“The media is going to have a damn heyday with this.”

* * *

A trail of mist curled through the air, eventually making its way to downtown South City.The vapor twisted towards an apartment building and- after a moment of searching- found the right window and slipped into a bedroom, before collapsing and condensing into the Painted Lady. With a shudder, she closed her eyes and breathed out, and her whole body transformed.

Purple and red skin lightened and changed to a mocha color, ethereal, mist-like hair thickened into dark brown locks, and luminescent eyes darkened and lost their glow as they turned from turquoise to solid, true blue. The red dress she wore morphed into gym shorts and a sweater, while her large hat vanished completely.

“That always feels weird,” she muttered, before flopping on her bed.

_“You’ll get used to it.”_ Yanse responded in her head.

“I hope so, but we’ve been doing this for three months and I still haven’t.”

_“Erm… yes.”_

Katara chuckled, before whispering, “Do you think it was a good idea to really… reveal ourselves like that to the world?”

_“Yes. We are now letting others like us know that we are here. That we are also doing good and willing to work for a better world. In that way, we open up the amount of potential allies in case there is an opponent or force that we are unable to fight.”_

She rolled over, frowning a bit, “You’re right. I’m just nervous. As soon as that Firelord guy started doing big, public things, he’s had throw-downs every few months with whatever enhanced that decide they could take him.”

_“Such is the nature of power. It invites challenge. When the spirits still roamed the world, you would be surprised as to the amount of mortals who tried to fight Agni or any of the higher spirits. If people see someone stronger than them, they are inherently jealous, and wish to challenge them. So when someone has the skills, tools, or abilities to do so…”_

Katara “hmm”ed and nodded. She rolled over on her bed, “While this is very interesting, please let me sleep. I have work tomorrow.”

_“Sleep well, Katara.”_

“Thank you, Yanse.”

As Katara drifted to sleep, she let her mind wander.

She worried about her brother, who was working in the Northern Water Tribe.

She hoped her father wouldn’t get too angry at her — well, at the “Painted Lady” — because she was a vigilante.

She missed her Gran Gran, still cooking sea prune stew and puttering around Katara’s childhood home.

And she remembered her mother, killed by a mugger right in front of her when she was eight.

She remembered the man’s cruel face as he shot the woman for trying to stop him for grabbing Katara, trying to get at the little girl’s whalebone necklace.

Her fist tightened on her sheets, and she resolved herself to help and save people for as long as she could.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized, when re-reading the older version of Vanguard (still up in its entirety over on FF.Net!) that I never explained how Katara got bonded with the Painted Lady. So, here is a heavily edited version of her debut chapter, now with backstory! It went through a lot of revisions, before I decided that Katara needed to die while saving someone, not just from a random accident I had considered.  
> Unlike Zuko, Katara gets to retain her secret identity from the show, because her Painted Lady identity is far more heroic than the Blue Spirit, and it fits more in what she's doing, unlike the Blue Spirit, which is very different from Zuko's style.  
> Katara is no longer a med student like she was originally, now she's an unemployed doctor. I realized how much time being either a med student or a doctor would take up, meaning she would have very little time for heroics, and even less time for sleep, so I changed it up so she can have a slightly more balanced life.  
> Anyway, Katara's supporting cast and routine will be more detailed in a later Painted Lady chapter.  
> Oh, and 119 is the emergency number in a lot of Asian countries, so I decided to use that as the general number, not just in the SWT but also most of this world.  
> Questions, comments, concerns? Leave 'em in the comments below! See you!


End file.
